


Guardian Angel

by xKeshire



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels, Future Fic, Gen, Miracles, parental Giotto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 14:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6010009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xKeshire/pseuds/xKeshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It is said that every time an angel performs a miracle, they lose feathers.<br/>But no one knows what happens when angels lose all their feathers."</p><p>The burden of an angel’s abilities on a human body is a heavy one, and as it begins to take a toll on Tsuna, he decides to spend the rest of his short life giving back to those who gave him so much. </p><p>In which Tsuna performs 8 miracles for those closest to him, and the one time they perform a miracle for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardian Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Italicized - Flashbacks

Death is like a secret lover to Giotto. They would have passionate flings on the occasion (on the very FREQUENT) occasion, together as their bodies melded, an unknown fire within his soul flared to life, that danced brighter, higher, and stronger in the midst of their throws of passion. But Death is the embodiment of jealousy. Jealous of the body’s devotion to Life. Jealous of the warmth it cannot achieve on its own.

Especially as a flame wielding Vongola Boss, his flirtatious lover is overwhelmingly jealous. As he reveled in the warmth of his flames, the possessive claws took a stronger grasp on his being. With every fling, he could feel his energy being sapped.

And now he is entirely enveloped.

He knows Death. Had expected it and completed everything he wanted to.

“Did you really?”

Giotto jolts upright, eyes flashing open, startled by the sudden outburst. Is he hearing things now? His sudden movement though results in a temporary sense of vertigo as his senses are overloaded.  When he finally feels stable, Giotto cracks his eyes open. It is dark all around him as if he never opened his eyes. But as he experimentally waves his naked hand in front of his face, he can easily make out the creases in his slender fingers and the slight pink undertones of his pale skin.

Wasn’t he dead? Why is he hallucinating?

“You are. Dead I mean. You aren’t hallucinating though,” reverberates a smooth tenorous voice, almost reminiscent of that of Giotto’s Rain Guardian.

From above him floats down what appears to be a young man with an elfish appearance - pronounced nose, hair the color of Giotto’s flame, and a smooth pointed face.  He is clad in a simple tunic, but to make everything even more surreal, spread out behind him is a pair of white wings almost double his size, glowing a faint yellow from the cascading light of his halo.

Could this be any tackier?

As if he read Giotto’s mind, the glowing stranger’s eyes widen at the thought, and his statuesque face quickly crinkles as his eyes and lips upturn with a hearty smile.

“My bad. My bad. Just thought this appearance would better appeal to you.” When he notices the perplexed look on Giotto’s face, the young man motions towards Giotto’s clothing. “Your own is rather regal.”

Looking down, Giotto realizes that he is dressed in his Vongola Primo attire. Cloak, gauntlet, and all, but lacking his gloves. He looks around perplexed before finding them on the ground his feet. Relieved, Giotto slips them one, flexing his hands as he finds solace in the familiar texture of worn leather.

“You were buried in those clothes,” comments the stranger with an almost gentle tone, his bright eyes turning downcast.

“So I am dead,” responds Giotto, the angel’s comment affirming his suspicions.

“Yes.  A natural death. Surrounded by friends at the very least.”

Giotto nods at the recollection and feels his heart sink. Tears, sobs, and clenched hands overwhelm his senses. Unable to say anything, the conversation lulls leaving only the echoing sounds of the angel’s wings beating rhythmically like a heartbeat.

“So. . .,” the angel awkwardly coughs, pulling out Giotto of his reverie into the present.

“Ah sorry,” Giotto apologizes, his voice tight as he tries to quell the outburst of feelings, “Some memories just resurfaced.”

The angel’s face melts into understanding and he gently smiles, drifting closer to Giotto. Arms-length away and naked feet planted on the ground, he outstretches a glowing hand, resting it on Giotto’s shoulders. Heat radiates softly throughout Giotto’s body, reminding Giotto of the peaceful fire in the fireplace that he always lit during the cold Italian winters.

“I understand. I had the same issues with nostalgia as you are feeling now. Still have. It’s difficult to overcome.”

“You had nostalgia?” Giotto inquires.

“Yup. I was a human once too. Slightly more brutal death than yours, but that topic doesn’t need to be broached at the moment. I chose this path.”

“What path?”

“As an angel. I once was in your same position, much more freaked out than you were. I was sprawled on the ground like a baby, frightened by the angel in front of me. Never believed in such things, but here I am now on the other side. Here to guide you to make the same decision.”

Giotto scoffs. “Me?” Giotto laughs again. “An angel? Do you know what I have done? How many lives have been ended by these hands of mine?”

“I – We do.” The angel starts, catching Giotto off-guard. “While killing is killing, regardless of the motive, you have done much more in your life than merely ending lives. And you know it.” The angel reaches out to grasp the chain connecting Giotto’s cape. Slowly, his nimble fingers, trace sideways along the chain to the Vongola crest, resting in its gold and blue glory against the black fabric. “You created the Vongola Famiglia. A vigilante family. You saved just as many, if not more, lives than you ended. You revolutionized the underground in Italy.”

Jerking back from the angel’s grasp, Giotto seethes. “We are not a mafia group.”

“You may have not created the famiglia with such intentions. But the Vongola Famiglia is most certainly a mafia group.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes you do. Don’t be ignorant with me. You left the Famiglia in the hands of Ricardo and Daemon Spade.”

“I did not LEAVE the famiglia,” Giotto emphasizes.

“Very true. You were betrayed. But you know full well that the Vongola Famiglia is not going to stay on course as a vigilante group as you may have initially hoped for.” Giotto tries to open his mouth to retort, but the angel merely raises a hand to silence him. “We both know it Giotto. Why else would you have taken all those precautionary measures? Sealing the powers of the rings? Creating the CEDEF? I know you lived the rest of your life out feeling hopeless as you watched the Vongola rise to power as a mafia family in the underworld. It’s not at all what you planned for, but I have a way for you to fix this.”

At this Giotto perks up, but outwardly remains stoic and hesitant. His years of experience heading the Vongola Famiglia has taught him much. It has especially curbed his tendency to be too trustworthy.

“Become an angel.”

“You already told me that!”

The angel looks stunned, his eyebrows arched in confusion. “Oh wait, I did already? My bad, I’m rather forgetful. But wasn’t that rather dramatic?” A hint of pride tints the angel’s voice.

Giotto just groans in response. Just his luck to be stuck with such an amateur.

“Okay. Sorry. Sorry,” the angel apologizes placatingly. “So you aren't in the joking mood. Understandable. But in all seriousness, we are offering you the choice to become an angel.”

“We?” The angel corrected himself from saying “I” last time as well.

“Yeah, God.”

Giotto just hums acknowledgment, not quite sure what to say since he wasn't what one would call a believer.

“So what's the catch?”

“Ah the catch. You are quite astute,” the angel notes. “Typically the only catch to becoming an angel is that you don't truly get to move on. You become a guardian angel so you live out the rest of your time supervising your person.”

“Typically? Then why am I so different?”

“It is not you per say that warrants this exclusivity. It is your descendant. You see, I have been informed that one of your descendants is the key to the restoration of the Vongola and the revolution of the underground. There will be one of your likeness that will hold this ability. Through him you shall achieve your goal. However, he alone as a human is not sufficient. What he requires is an ability that only angels are privy to. Heightened intuition.”

“Intuition?”

“Well we angels don't have the ability of future sight. That is strictly reserved. But we still need to watch over our people so we are gifted with a very strong intuition to determine if something bad will happen.”

“Then how does this involve me?”

“It doesn’t. At least not directly.  You will be assigned as a guardian angel to all the bearers of the Vongola Boss ring, and finally a guardian to this chosen descendant of yours. The bulk of your responsibilities will not emerge until he is born, but throughout his life you must act as his mentor -helping him hone his angelic abilities and carrying out the typical jobs of a guardian angel. However, as I mentioned earlier, this decision does not impact you. The burden of a guardian angel will pale in comparison to the one your descendants must bear.  All of your descendants will experience a shortened lifespan, the length depending on the strength of the angel side residing within them. This will happen to all of your descendants so that this one descendant of yours will acquire all of the abilities as a Nephilim.”

Giotto could feel his heart drop. “I beg your pardon?”

“Nephilim. Half human, half angel.”

“I do not see the issue with this.”

“Nephilim have the abilities of an angel. Not only the heightened intuition, which will be pivotal, but also the ability of ours to create miracles.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes,” the angel pauses for a moment. “Did I not mention that before?”

“No,” retorts Giotto, his trust in the angel slowly dwindling.

“Oh my bad. I told you before, I’m forgetful. But in response to your question, yes, we have that ability. Of course this ability of ours should only be used sparingly. As angels, the ability is unlimited though we personally limit it, because imagine what would happen if miracles happened so often.

But Nephilim still reside in a human body which are rather weak and unable to bear the power of an angel, and the ability to create miracles, which is only present in Nephilim, is especially taxing on the human body. So every time your descendant uses this ability, he will shed feathers.”

“And what happens if he loses all his feathers?” The future was shaping up to be quite bleak for his descendant.

The angel stops for a moment, caught off guard by the comment. “I,” he pauses, “I don’t know. The occurrences of Nephilim are very rare, and none to my knowledge ever used up all of their feathers. But this ability to grant wishes is only an unfortunate consequence of being a Nephilim. It will not be pivotal to the underground revolution. Only the intuition. However, it is up to your descendant to do what he will with this other ability. Maybe all of this worrying what will happen if he uses up his feathers will be fruitless. None of this will be an issue if you decide against this offer. But the decision is all yours.”

Giotto could only stand in awe as the angel in front of him finished speaking. Slowly the gears within his head, spin rapidly deciphering the plethora of information. For some reason, Giotto, nay his descendant, is chosen to revolutionize the underground world. The entire situation is absurd but, decades ago, Giotto was stuck in this same situation.

_Somewhere in the middle of the forest of the Simon Island:_

_“Thanks for saving me Giotto.”_

_“Of course I'd come you idiot. It’s been three years since we have talked like this hasn’t it?”_

_A battle weary Simon Cozarto and Giotto stand in front of one another amongst the foliage of the now peaceful Simon Island. Everything seems at peace, the wind rustling the trees in affirmation. A crisis was averted._

_“Yeah,” a wan smile stretches along Cozarto’s tired face._

_“So what are we going to do about that traitor Spade?” interrupts G, intentionally breaking the peace of the moment to address the elephant in the room._

_“G,” Cozarto starts, looking away briefly from the duo, but when he returns their gaze, his eyes burn a bright ruby red like his earth flame.  “I have a plan. Why don't we stay quiet about everything that happened here. You saving me from getting killed by Daemon spade’s subordinates. Our Shimon family was killed in battle by the Vongola. Why don't we just let that be the truth?”_

_“What?”  Giotto exclaims, taken aback by the sudden proposition. “What are you saying Cozarto?”_

_“I have a strong feeling that the battle with Daemon won't be a simple task. If we are to eliminate him, there would be much sacrifice. On the other hand, if Daemon continues to live, we the Shimon will be your weak point. So if we disappeared from this world and went into hiding, then everything would be fine right?”_

_Giotto takes several steps forward towards Cozarto, prepared to reach over and throttle his dear friend. “As if! Are you listening to yourself Cozarto? To disappear from the world and continue living in the shadows, what's so heroic and grand about that?” The two of them worked from rock bottom and become esteemed leaders in their communities developing their own families, and Cozarto was willing to give all their years of hard work up?_

_“You don't need to worry about that Giotto.” chuckles Cozarto. “We Shimon are naturally reclusive people anyways.”_

_“That's not the problem! It’s not only you and your current guardians who will be affected. What about the children? You plan for your future generations to carry this burden?”_

_“I do,” responds Cozarto. The solemnity and resolution in those two words are enough to stop Giotto in his tracks. “Our family is not so weak. And in the grand scheme of it all, are the lives of a few as important as the lives of thousands?”_

_It takes several moments for Giotto to respond as he contemplates Cozarto’s proposition. Agreeing would mean the Shimon would be essentially wiped from the face of the earth and from the Vongola’s history. Agreeing would mean abandoning his friend - no, his brother. Agreeing would mean subjecting the several generations afterwards to a lifetime of isolation and solitude._

_From underneath his golden bangs, Giotto snuck another look at his best friend across from him and ruby red met sharp orange. He could feel the warm burn of Cozarto’s will course through his entire being. Cozarto was not going to back down. The stubborn man._

_“Fine,” Giotto finally utters, and the huge smile of relief he sees on Cozarto’s face breaks his heart._

_He has to look away, but when he does, he misses Cozarto apologetically whispering under his breath. “I’m sorry my children.”_

“I will become an angel.” The resolution in Giotto’s voice surprises even himself. How ironic that he had once tried to persuade Cozarto out of making a similar decision.

“Understood,” the angel nods. As he raises his hands to settle on Giotto’s golden locks, he mutters, “You made the right decision.”

But even as his body becomes encased in a blinding swath of light, Giotto can only question the credibility of the angel’s statement. When he extends his new wings and pumps up and down a couple times, only one thought envelops his mind. “I’m sorry my children.”

__________

(Hundreds of years later)

“Push.  Mrs. Sawada, please breathe in and out for us then push.”

Sharp grunts echo in a barren room.

“That’s good. One more time please. We can just see its head.”

“Nana, you are doing well honey. Nono and I are here with you.”

“There we go your baby boy. Let me just rinse him and wrap him up for you.”

Nana can only tiredly nod, before passing out in her bed.

A startled sound is emitted, before the placating shush of a feminine voice interrupts.

“Rest assured Mr. Sawada. Your wife is only asleep.”

From the far end of the room, sounds a voice filled with worry and urgency.

“Doctor, please come here. “

“Yes, oh my - what is that?”

Scared by the tone of the doctor’s voice, both Iemitsu and Nono draw closer to the baby currently flipped on its stomach in one of the nurses’ arms.

Splayed out on the baby boy’s back, is a matted mass of discolored white feathers. It almost looks like - wings.

Upon the realization, Nono quickly jumps into action.

“Doctor, nurses, I’m sorry but you need to leave this room now.”

“But, the baby-”

“Now,” emphasizes Nono. He injects some of his will into the words and without a word, the doctor and nurses rush out of the room, placing the swaddled baby in Nono’s outstretched arms.

“Iemitsu.”

“Yes?” questions Iemitsu, quickly averting his gaze for his baby boy to his boss’s face.

“Shut down this entire wing. No one is to enter. Everyone non-Vongola must leave the area immediately.”

“Yes Nono.” With a quick bow and a kiss on his wife’s sweaty forehead, Iemitsu exits the room.

As soon as he is alone, Nono whips out his phone from his pocket, quickly pulling up a number on speed dial. “Dr. Shamal, I apologize for the sudden call, but please come to Namimori hospital as soon as possible.” Nono peers down at the baby in his arm. Slowly its eyes open to reveal a beautiful amber orange that stare at Nono with an impossible clarity. “This issue is of utmost importance.”

Caught up on the phone, Nono does not notice his Vongola Boss ring glow softly. Behind him is a floating Giotto, his wings curled up on his side, but while Nono can’t see him, the baby tucked in his arms tilts his head to make eye contact. Slowly the baby breaks out in a toothless smile and stretches a pudgy arm towards Giotto.

With a wry smile, Giotto bends over Nono to grab the small hand and pet the baby’s sparse brown locks.

“I’m sorry my child.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentines to all of you! Oh look. . . a new fic *sweats nervously*  
> I just couldn't let this plot bunny escape me though. None of my other fics have the 1st Gen  
> and I love them too much. But I haven't neglected my other fics!
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed it and look forward for more to come. Comments and critiques are welcome!


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